


follow the leader

by bunbunjolras



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Cults, M/M, Masturbation, Mindfuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunbunjolras/pseuds/bunbunjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are Les Amis de l'ABC a cult, Grantaire?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	follow the leader

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm trying my hand at something serious and creepy. Let me know how well I did? Might post more, might not.

“ _15 young men and 2 women have been arrested after a failed attack on a local government building this afternoon. The group, a radical collective known as Les Amis de l'ABC, have been brought up on cyber terrorism charges in the past, but have never been found guilty. The leader of the group was not among those arrested, although it is thought that his second in command has been remanded in custody._

 

“ _Explosive materials have been taken into evidence from the scene and also from what appears to be the group's base, along with what appears to be propaganda material denouncing the government and outlining their philosophies.”_

 

 

 

 

 

Grantaire was a mess – his hair was in disarray, his creases in his clothes were so deep they looked permanent, and he stank of alcohol. His legal name wasn't Grantaire – that was a code name given to him by their leader – but the name he was given at birth was long gone, scrubbed off any records by the collective's technical experts.

 

“Grantaire,” Javert, the investigator, said, and the dazed young man looked up at him, his eyes focusing slowly.

 

“Yes, that's me.”

 

“Grantaire, I need you to tell us about Enjolras.”

 

The man sighed, shaking his head, refusing to look at the investigators.

 

“We have a mountain of evidence against you, Grantaire, and we can bring you up on charges of terrorism, conspiracy, all sorts of things. If you give us some information on Enjolras, we might be able to offer you a deal for jail time instead of the death penalty.”

 

He laughed, his head dropping back, and he slouched in his chair even more. “My Apollo,” he murmured. “I cannot give him to you.”

 

“You may not have to. One of the others will tell us something that will help us.”

 

The young man laughed, a harsh barking sound that bounced around the room. “No one will betray Enjolras. No one.”

 

The investigator raised an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe that your comrades would rather face the death penalty than give us your leader.”

 

Another harsh laugh from Grantaire shocked Javert. “We are willing to die for Enjolras.”

 

“Combeferre told us he was willing to die for the cause. You're willing to die for Enjolras. Do you not believe in the cause?”

 

Grantaire looked the investigator in the eye for the first time. “I believe in him.” He sighed, and rolled his head. “Above all I believe in Enjolras.”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

He turned away, twisting in his chair so as he was facing away from the investigator, gazing absently up at the ceiling. “Do you love Enjolras, Grantaire?”

 

 

 

 

The tapes of each of the interrogations were all cued up at specific points when Javert walked into the room. It had been a week since Les Amis had been arrested, and there was still no sign of Enjolras anywhere. The only other name they'd managed to get from any of the terrorists was “Apollo” from Grantaire. They had no idea who he was, what he looked like, where he was or what his next move would be.

 

“What do you have for me?”

 

The technician played the tapes one by one, each of Les Amis being asked about Enjolras, and one by one, they came out with the same words, the same inflection, the same pauses and rises and falls in their intonation.

 

“Enjolras is our leader, I would follow him to the ends of the earth.”

 

Javert frowned.

 

“And this,” the technician said, winding through the tapes.

 

“I would give my life for the cause.” He heard it from 17 different people, and each time the words and intonation were exactly the same.

 

Leaning in to the screens, Javert narrowed his eyes. “What does it mean?”

 

“I have no idea, sir.”

 

 

 

 

“Are you part of a cult, Grantaire?”

 

Another harsh bark of laughter. His fingers twitched on top of the table, as though he wanted to reach for something but aborted the movement quickly.

 

“Is Enjolras your leader, Grantaire?”

 

The young man hummed happily. “Yes, Enjolras is our leader.”

 

“Are Les Amis a cult?”

 

“No, don't be silly, of course it's not a cult.” He scoffed, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his chair. “We have some pretty strong beliefs, but it's not a cult.”

 

Javert leaned back in his chair as well, watching Grantaire as the young man grinned wildly at him. “Do you do what Enjolras tells you to? Do you believe everything he says?”

 

Grantaire's hand slipped down below the table, out of sight, and at first Javert watched him carefully.

 

“Enjolras is always right,” he murmured. “Of course I believe what he tells me, he's always right.”

 

Granraire sighed happily, and his creased clothes rustled as he fiddled with his belt.

 

“Do you do whatever Enjolras tells you to do?”

 

“Of course I do.” Grantaire's fingers worked almost independently on his belt, undoing it and pulling it off entirely. He was gazing vacantly at the table between himself and Javert, his face slightly flushed and his eyes glassy. “If Enjolras tells me to do something, of course I do it. Everything Enjolras tells me is the truth, he wouldn't steer me wrong.”

 

As Javert watched, Grantaire undid the button and fly of his jeans, slipping his hand between his flat belly and the fabric of his boxers.

 

“Enjolras knows what's best for me.” He bit back a moan, and Javert got to his feet, pushing out of the interrogation room, through the hallway and into the observation room. He got to the other side of the mirror in time to see Grantaire pull his cock out of his boxers, palming it openly, moaning loudly.

 

It took Javert a few moments to realise that Grantaire was still talking about his leader.

 

“Enjolras knows what's best for me, Enjolras treats me well. I do what Enjolras wants me to because he would never steer me wrong.” Grantaire trailed his fingers through the pre-ejaculate oozing from the slit at the head of his cock, spreading it down the shaft. When he grasped at his dick he was none to gentle with himself, jerking his hand roughly as he continued to mutter under his breath. “I believe what Enjolras tells me without question.”

 

“What the hell is he doing?” the technician asked, peering through the glass at the young man. Grantaire was pink cheeked and breathing roughly.

 

“I assume you know what masturbation is,” Javert said in a flat voice. The technician squeaked and flushed, averting his eyes. “Other than that, I don't know what's going on in there.”

 

“I love Enjolras,” was the next coherent thing they heard from the interrogation room. “Oh god, I love Enjolras.”

 

His head dropped back and his hand worked more furiously around his cock.

 

“I believe in Enjolras, I will never betray Enjolras, I love Enjolras, Enjolras knows whats best for me.”

 

“What's wrong with him?” the technician asked, watching as Grantaire's eyes slipped shut and he moaned deeply. “I don't understand what's going on.”

 

Javert hummed briefly. “This Enjolras man must be more devious than we had suspected. I think this is more serious than we had been led to believe. Call a psychologist.”

 

“I want to make Enjolras happy, I want him to love me, so I do what he tells me to. I love Enjolras.” As he came, all over his hand and the underside of the table, he was murmuring phrases of devotion as he shuddered and panted and writhed against his own grip.  


End file.
